Thursday, 9 October 2025

The Language of the Spirit: Learning to Speak Without Christianese

The Language of the Spirit: Learning to Speak Without Christianese

It’s funny how God has a way of calling us into rooms we don’t feel ready to walk into.

When the pastor first invited me to join a small leadership group at church, I remember thinking, me? I’m not qualified for that. I’m not a theologian. I’m not fluent in the language that so many seem to speak so effortlessly. I’m just a man trying to follow Jesus, one step, one prayer, one conversation at a time.

But God doesn’t wait for our confidence. He waits for our obedience.

And that’s where this story begins — not in strength, but in surrender.


The Leap of Faith

I remember telling the leader of the group, “I’m not sure if I should do this. I don’t know if I’d add any value.”

He smiled and said something simple but powerful:

“You belong here.”

It’s amazing how two words can melt down a wall of insecurity.

So, I said yes. Nervously. Hesitantly. But yes.

The first meeting came, and I did what most of us do when we walk into unfamiliar rooms — I listened more than I spoke. I wanted to learn the rhythm, the expectations, the energy of the group. Everyone else seemed to have the right words, the proper posture, the right “church tone.”

And there I was, feeling like I was speaking a different dialect of faith.

When I left that first meeting, I felt like I had been given a performance review — not by anyone else, but by my own self-doubt. I told myself I didn’t fit. I didn’t sound “Christian enough.”

I even said to God, maybe this isn’t where I’m supposed to be.

But that’s when He began to teach me something I didn’t expect — that His Kingdom doesn’t run on performance. It runs on presence.


The Quiet Disappointment

It’s hard to admit when you feel spiritually out of place. It’s even harder when you’re surrounded by good people who make you feel like you should already know how to “do church.”

For me, it wasn’t about theology — it was about culture. The words, the phrases, the tone — it all felt like a club I hadn’t been initiated into.

I remember going home after that first night, frustrated.
God, did I misunderstand You?

And yet, deep down, I knew He had placed me there for a reason.

Sometimes God plants you in unfamiliar soil not to confuse you, but to grow you.

So instead of quitting, I told my leader honestly what I felt. I said I didn’t know if I was connecting or contributing. I was grateful for his encouragement, but I still didn’t feel like I belonged.

He didn’t try to fix it. He just listened — and that in itself was ministry.


The Turning Point

Fast forward a few meetings later. Something shifted.

It wasn’t that I suddenly started speaking “Christianese” — it’s that I stopped trying to.

Instead, I listened for the voice of the Holy Spirit.

During prayer, I felt a nudge—a quiet, undeniable prompting. The Spirit whispered three simple truths that would not only shape how I showed up in that room, but how I would walk through every day from then on.

  1. Pray — and start doing it, not just talking about it.
  2. Be baptized — in water, yes, but also in purpose.
  3. Live as if Jesus is standing right behind you all day long.

Those three thoughts dropped into my spirit like pebbles into still water — and I could feel the ripples immediately.


The Confirmation

Weeks later, each of those three points — prayer, baptism, and awareness of Jesus’ presence — surfaced again in separate discussions during the group.

It was as if God was confirming, you are in alignment with My Spirit.

That moment changed everything.

I stopped worrying about fitting in and started focusing on showing up.

Because the truth is, I didn’t need to learn the language of the church. I needed to remember that the Spirit already speaks through me — not in words of ritual, but in words of relationship.

And when I allowed that truth to take root, I realized something powerful:

You don’t need to sound holy to be heard by heaven.
You need to be honest.


The Language of the Spirit

There’s a verse in Romans 8:26 (NIV) that says:

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”

That verse hit me in a new way.

It reminded me that even when I stumble through my sentences, even when my prayers feel clumsy or incomplete, the Spirit is translating them perfectly before God.

He’s not grading my grammar; He’s honouring my heart.

That realization gave me peace. I didn’t need to learn a new language. I just needed to keep speaking with sincerity.

The Spirit of God doesn’t respond to performance — He responds to posture.

And when your heart is open, heaven hears you clearly.


The Lesson of Alignment

What I thought was a misalignment in that first meeting turned out to be a divine calibration.

Sometimes God allows discomfort not to push you away, but to position you deeper.

In Proverbs 3:5–6, we’re told:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”

That’s precisely what happened.

When I stopped leaning on my understanding of how I thought I “should” sound and instead leaned into His presence, things began to align.

Not because the circumstances changed, but because my heart did.

And that’s where the growth began.


The Three Anchors

Those three simple instructions from the Holy Spirit — pray, be baptized, live aware of Jesus’ presence — have continued to shape not just my leadership journey, but my faith walk as a whole.

Each one carries deep biblical roots and practical life application.

Let’s unpack them the way God showed me:


1. Pray — Do It, Don’t Just Talk About It

Prayer is not performance; it’s a connection.

It doesn’t have to be eloquent, long, or structured. It just has to be real.

In Matthew 6:7–8, Jesus says:

“And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.”

That verse dismantles the myth that prayer is about saying the right things.

Prayer is about saying the true things.

It’s about bringing God into the conversation — not just the crisis.

The more I began praying from the heart rather than the script, the more I felt His peace. Not because the situation changed, but because my perspective did.

Prayer doesn’t move God closer to you — it moves you closer to God.


2. Be Baptized — in Water and in Purpose

Baptism is more than a symbolic act; it’s a declaration that your old self no longer drives the car.

In 2 Corinthians 5:17, Paul writes:

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”

That’s not a suggestion — that’s a transformation.

When I felt the Spirit remind me of baptism, I knew He wasn’t just talking about the act of being submerged in water. He was reminding me to live like I’ve already come up from it.

To carry myself as someone who has been made new, not just someone trying to act new.

To see each day as a fresh start to walk in that resurrection life.

That’s baptism in purpose.


3. Live as if Jesus Is Standing Behind You All Day

This one struck me the deepest.

What if Jesus were physically standing behind me all day long — at work, in traffic, in conversations, in silence?

Would I respond differently?
Would I speak differently?
Would I forgive quicker?
Would I love better?

The answer is obvious. But the reality is, He is standing there — not behind me, but within me.

In Galatians 2:20, Paul says:

“I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.”

That verse changes everything.

If Christ truly lives in me, then my actions are not just reflections of my character — they’re representations of His presence.

And when that awareness becomes daily practice, your entire way of living transforms.

You stop reacting and start responding.
You stop competing and start connecting.
You stop performing and start walking in purpose.


How to Integrate This Into Your Life

Now, here’s where I want to take this from reflection to application. Because faith isn’t just meant to be read — it’s meant to be lived.

Here are three ways you can integrate these truths into your own life, anchored in Scripture and practice:


1. Start Each Morning in Alignment (Psalm 5:3)

“In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before You and wait expectantly.”

Before your phone, before your email, before the noise — talk to God.

Five minutes of honest prayer can do more for your day than an hour of planning without His presence.

Ask Him for alignment, not achievement. Tell Him where you feel unsure. He already knows, but the conversation opens the connection.

This simple habit transforms your posture for the day — from striving to surrender.


2. Live in Daily Renewal (Romans 12:2)

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

Each day, choose to remember your baptism — not as an event, but as an identity.

When life gets messy or discouraging, pause and say, “That’s not who I am anymore.”

Renew your mind through Scripture, worship, and gratitude. You don’t need to fix everything today; you just need to stay in alignment with who God says you are.


3. Practice the Presence (Colossians 3:17)

“And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus.”

Imagine Jesus physically standing behind you. How does that change your tone? Your patience? Your decisions?

That simple visualization can become a spiritual habit — a quiet accountability that turns everyday moments into worship.

When you interact from that awareness, even ordinary moments become holy ground.


The Blessing of Belonging

Now, after three months in this group, I don’t feel nervous anymore. I don’t feel like an outsider trying to learn a new dialect.

I feel at peace — because I’ve learned that belonging doesn’t come from blending in. It comes from being aligned with the Spirit.

What I once saw as awkwardness was actually authenticity. What I thought was failure was simply formation.

God wasn’t asking me to perform; He was inviting me to participate.

And that realization freed me from the pressure to “sound spiritual.” I no longer worry if I’m speaking “Christianese” — I just speak Christ.

Because the Gospel was never meant to be complicated — it was meant to be communicated.


The Growth of Grace

I think sometimes God places us in rooms where we feel out of place to remind us that grace isn’t earned by fluency. It’s received through faith.

The disciples didn’t all have seminary degrees or polished prayers. They had obedience and hearts willing to learn.

Peter, the one who spoke out of turn.
Thomas, the one who doubted.
Matthew, the one who was judged for his past.

And yet, God used each one.

So why not me? Why not you?

God doesn’t call the qualified; He qualifies the called.

And when you realize that, your nervousness turns into gratitude. Because suddenly you understand that the very thing you thought disqualified you was the thing God wanted to use most — your honesty.


A Final Reflection

As I sit here writing these words, I think about that first night again — how unsure I was, how small I felt.

Now I see it differently. That wasn’t a moment of failure. It was a moment of foundation.

God wasn’t testing my confidence; He was deepening my dependence.

And through it all, I’ve learned this truth:

You don’t have to sound like everyone else to be used by God.
You just have to let the Holy Spirit speak through your voice.

That’s not Christianese — that’s authenticity.


A Prayer for the Reader

Father, thank You for using my uncertainty to teach me trust.
Thank You for reminding me that Your Spirit is not limited by my words, my fears, or my understanding.

For the one reading this who feels like they don’t belong,
whisper to their heart the same truth You whispered to mine —
“You belong here.”

Teach us to pray from the heart,
to walk in purpose,
and to live every moment aware of Your presence.

And may every word we speak,
even the imperfect ones,
be instruments of Your grace.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.


Final Takeaway

  • You don’t need to speak perfectly — you just need to speak truthfully.
  • You don’t need to know the subculture — you need to know the Saviour.
  • You don’t need to perform — you just need to participate.

Because when you walk in the Spirit, your life becomes the sermon — even if you never step behind a pulpit.

The Season of Becoming: Blessings in the Quiet, Growth in the Light

It’s been a while since I’ve written like this — the kind of writing that feels less like words on a page and more like a river breaking free after a long winter freeze. For a while, I thought maybe the season of writing was behind me. Perhaps the well had run dry, or maybe I had already said all I needed to say. But then, as God so often does, He whispered in the stillness.

And the whisper was clear.
“It’s time again.”

Not because I’m owed another season of creativity, but because He has more work to do through me — and through these words.

When I wrote my first book, my goal was simple: if one person reads this and it helps them, it will be worth it. I didn’t have a marketing plan, a social media strategy, or even the confidence to believe I was an author. I just had a heart that was burning with something to say and a faith that told me God could use it.

Now, after over 35,000 readers later, I can say this with certainty — that goal was met, and then some, not because of my talent, but because obedience to God always multiplies.

But here’s what I’ve learned since then: God doesn’t create us to stop once the first mountain is climbed. He doesn’t call us to rest at the summit and admire the view forever. He calls us to keep moving, to find the next climb, the next valley, the next lesson that will deepen our faith and strengthen our voice.

For the past six months, I’ve lived in the quiet — the kind of quiet that can’t be scheduled or planned. It’s the stillness after the storm, when you stop striving and breathe again. In that stillness, I found peace. I found clarity. And I saw the reminder that sometimes growth doesn’t look like doing; sometimes it seems like becoming.


The Quiet Season

There’s a sacredness in quiet seasons that most people overlook. The world tells us we’re only valuable when we’re producing, performing, or proving something. But the Spirit whispers something very different: “Be still and know that I am God.”

With that knowledge, I began to see the difference between motion and momentum. Motion is what we do when we’re afraid to stop. Momentum is what happens when God is moving through us, even when we’re standing still.

During these past months, I let go of the need to prove anything — to anyone. I let God recalibrate my heart. I learned again how to listen without interrupting, how to rest without guilt, and how to pray without needing an answer right away.

And in that quiet, I realized something: blessings often arrive wrapped in rest. Growth usually begins in gratitude.

We live in a world obsessed with noise — constant updates, scrolling comparisons, endless notifications. But the real growth? It happens in the silence between those distractions. It happens when you stop filling every moment with sound and allow the Spirit to speak in a voice that only stillness can hear.


The Blessing of Becoming

Growth is never just about getting bigger or better — it’s about becoming more of who God designed you to be.

When I look back at my own story, every blessing I’ve received came from a place of surrender. The moment I stopped fighting for control, I found peace. The moment I stopped questioning God’s timeline, I found purpose.

We often say we want blessings, but what we really want is comfort. Yet, the most powerful blessings rarely come dressed as comfort. They come disguised as discomfort, challenge, or loss — because those are the places where God stretches our faith to fit the next season of our calling.

If I’ve learned anything since writing my first book, it’s that blessings are not rewards for doing good; they are reminders of God’s goodness in the middle of what we don’t understand.

Some blessings show up as people who walk with us when the world walks away. Others come as closed doors that redirect us to the right path. And sometimes, the greatest blessing is the one we don’t see until much later — the one we thought was a setback but turned out to be a setup for something greater.


Facing the Critics

When you write, speak, or live authentically, criticism will follow. It’s inevitable. The world has become fluent in judgment. But I’ve learned that vulnerability is not weakness — it’s worship. It’s the willingness to say, “Here I am, God, use me,” even when others don’t understand what He’s doing through you.

When I first began sharing my heart publicly, I felt naked. Exposed. Writing has a way of stripping away the armour we wear to appear strong. It reveals who we really are — the raw, unfinished, still-learning version of ourselves.

And yet, that’s exactly where God does His best work.

Jesus didn’t protect His reputation; He surrendered it for the sake of others. That’s what love does — it gives even when misunderstood.

So, if you’re reading this and you’ve ever hesitated to share your gift because of fear or criticism, let this be your encouragement: don’t hide what heaven has placed in you. Someone is waiting for your story, your strength, your scars.

Because when you share your scars, you permit others to heal theirs.


The Gift of Time

I’ve come to see that the most precious gift anyone can give is their time. And if you’ve chosen to spend some of yours reading this, I don’t take that lightly.

Time is sacred. It’s not renewable. Once spent, it’s gone. And yet, how often do we trade it for things that don’t matter? Endless scrolling, comparing, regretting — while the people we love wait for our presence, not our perfection.

The quiet season reminded me that God measures growth differently from the world. The world measures success in what we accumulate. God measures it in what we give away.

The hours we spend encouraging someone who’s hurting, the minutes we take to pray for a friend, the seconds we use to choose patience over pride — that’s how we build an eternal return.


Renewed Purpose

As I begin writing again, I do so not with the pressure to repeat the success of past seasons, but with the peace of knowing that each season carries its own assignment.

This one feels like an invitation — not just to write words that inspire, but to help others find blessings in their own becoming. To remind you that your quiet season is not wasted, and your growth may not be visible, but it is happening.

If I could sum up my heart right now in one sentence, it would be this:

“God doesn’t create us to sit — He creates us to shine.”

You were made for more than survival. You were made to become. To expand. To rise again after resting. To do more than you’ve ever done, but from a place of peace, not pressure.

The last few months reminded me that light doesn’t always roar — sometimes it flickers, rebuilds, and then shines brighter than before.


Blessings in Every Layer

When we hear the word “blessing,” we tend to think of the obvious — the new job, the answered prayer, the healing, the breakthrough. But blessings are layered.

Some blessings are loud — they make you cry out in joy and gratitude. Others are quiet — they settle in your spirit like a sunrise that doesn’t need to announce itself. Both are sacred.

Blessings are not earned; they’re entrusted. God gives them not because we’re perfect, but because we’re available. And every blessing carries a responsibility — to use it, share it, multiply it, and shine it forward.

If we hoard our blessings, they lose their purpose. But when we pour them out, they multiply. That’s how God’s math works — the more we give, the more room He has to fill.


Growth Through Gratitude

Gratitude is the soil where growth takes root.

When I look back on every chapter of my life, gratitude was always the turning point — not success, not achievement, not recognition. Gratitude.

The moment you start thanking God before you see the result, that’s when transformation begins. Because faith isn’t believing after you see — it’s believing until you see.

Gratitude doesn’t deny hardship; it redefines it. It says, “Even here, even now, God is still good.”

I’ve had seasons where gratitude was a whisper because life felt heavy. But I’ve also seen how that whisper becomes a roar when you realize that even the hardest days carried hidden blessings.

As I write this new book, my prayer is that gratitude becomes your growth language — that you begin to see blessings not just in answered prayers, but also in the waiting, the learning, and the becoming.


The Light Returns

If you’ve ever felt like your light went out for a while — you’re not alone.

Even the brightest candles burn low at times. But the thing about God’s light is that it doesn’t depend on your energy to stay lit. It depends on your willingness to be used.

I used to think I needed to shine perfectly all the time, to be a consistent example of faith. But now I understand — authenticity shines brighter than perfection ever will.

When you’re honest about where you are, people see the light of Christ more clearly through you because He shines best through our cracks, not our polish.

This next season of writing isn’t about perfection. It’s about permission — permission to shine again, to speak again, to create again, and to believe again.


The Blessing of More

God has a way of using rest to prepare us for more. And “more” doesn’t always mean busier or bigger — sometimes it means deeper.

More peace. More clarity. More presence. More understanding.

But also, more courage to step into what’s next without fear.

I’ve seen God move in ways that humble me to my core. I’ve seen lives changed, families healed, faith restored. And through it all, I’ve realized something simple but powerful: when God blesses you, it’s never just for you.

He blesses you to be a blessing.
He grows you to help others succeed.
He shines through you so that others might see Him.


The Closing Prayer

As I close this reflection, I want to leave you with this:

If these words reached you, it’s not by accident. You were meant to read this, right here, right now. God is still writing your story, and He’s not done yet.

You might be in your quiet season. You might be waiting for direction, healing, or confirmation. But know this — you are growing, even if it doesn’t look like it. You are blessed, even if it doesn’t feel like it. And your light, no matter how dim it feels, still has the power to lead someone home.

So let this be your reminder:
The best is not behind you. The best is still becoming.

Shine again.
Believe again.
Write again.
Live again.

Because blessings are waiting — and growth is already happening.


Author’s Note

To everyone who has read my work, shared it, or found hope through it — thank you. You are the reason I write. You’ve given me the greatest gift of all: your time.

And as I return to writing with renewed purpose, my prayer is simple — may these words meet you where you are and move you closer to where God wants you to be.

Here’s to blessings.
Here’s to growth.
Here’s to becoming.